


The Leading Role

by QuietButLoud



Category: Banana Bus Squad, Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov
Genre: Academy, Ambitious Reader, Ballet, Banana Bus Squad - Freeform, Based off Lolita, Cheating, Classroom Sex, Dark, Dubious Morality, Emotional Manipulation, Explicit Sexual Content, Exploitation, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Fake Confidence, Gen, Gender-neutral Reader, Lolita, M/M, Manipulation, Obsessive Older Men, Older Characters, Older Man/Younger Woman, Reader does ballet, School, Self-Insert, Smut, Talent, Teacher-Student Relationship, Threats of Violence, Underage Reader, Verbal Humiliation, do not condone, teacher
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:14:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22340887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuietButLoud/pseuds/QuietButLoud
Summary: You have been accepted into a prestigious school meant for all mediums of art. The school is vey competitive, and along with ten other students accepted into the school you are all put against each other.You desperately want to live the life of a star. You want to become rich and famous, leaving your old life behind.The teachers have seemed to take an interest towards you. They make advances. Though you are younger, you use this to your advantage.You knew what you were getting into, you just didn’t know the consequences.—I do not condone anything in this story. No hate to Evan, Luke, or Johnathan; just the people I decided to use.Based off the movie Lolita, inspired by the song Lolita by Lana Del Rey.
Relationships: /reader story, Evan Fong & Everyone, Evan Fong/Reader, John/Reader, Johnathan/Reader, Johnathon/Reader, Luke Patterson/Ryan | Ohmwrecker, luke patterson/reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 16





	1. Audition

Written in a readable cursive font, were the words “Academy of the Arts,” and underneath, a picture of a school. Three stories, pristine white exterior, and a fountain out front to match. A curved tan path surrounding the fountain all sides, leading up to the front steps.

The fountain was of the academy official logo. A lily, white. The flower itself drooped forward ever so slightly, and the stem strong. The water poured from the center, out in between the four petals.

Absolutely gorgeous. 

Printed on the next pages, were about the school itself. 

The school, was a prestigious school, for all things considered artistic. But one of the best classes in the entire school were it’s singing and dance programs, more specifically, ballet. They had the best teachers, a few celebrities had gone to the school, and their reputation squeaky clean. Anybody who was somebody went.

The school was extremely difficult to get into, and tuition was expensive; and you weren’t exactly rolling in dough. But a few months ago, they made an alarming announcement. Three teachers from the school acting as judges would be touring schools, and would watch auditions to pick for ten students to join the school.

Since you found out you had practiced non-stop. Your dream was to become a dancer. Ballet was your expertise, though you dabbled in a few other things too. Singing, for example, was a hobby of yours, nothing more.

In almost an instant, the day had arrived. The dream of yours and others so many put to challenge against each other. Hundreds auditioning, and only ten being accepted.

You stared intensely at the pamphlet of the school in your hand, taking in every detail of the cover, creasing where your fingers held tightly.

A circus of people surrounded you. The chatter from them clouded your mind. Their arms brushed against your skin, shoving you forward whenever the endless line moved an inch, stepping on your shoes and squishing your toes.

Least to say, you were more than uncomfortable. Anxiety bubbled inside you, rising in your chest and squeezed lightly.

Taking in a deep, deep breath, you held it for ten seconds; and letting it go whence time came. It was a simple trick you found online, but had only recently started using. 

This school had been your dream. You poured blood, sweat, and tears into even qualifying for an audition. This school was your ticket to success, to living the life of a star. You would leave your small town, and go into bigger things. You would no longer be broke, you wouldn’t have to live the hard life anymore.

There wasn’t any way in hell you were letting that go.

The audition line was long, starting from outside the auditorium of the school, twisting and turning leading backstage, and finishing just behind the curtain.

You were at the front of the line, only five people away from it being your turn. 

Everyone waited antsily, including yourself. You had to do well, you had to do amazing. Better than everyone else. Deciding to take a quick last minute check in yourself and everyone around you, eyeing the competency, you glanced around, taking in the people, and their appearance. Most everyone wore nice black clothes, others in outfits fitting to their type of creative medium.

Then, you looked to the people in front of you.

The first four were normal. All dressed accordingly and appropriately. But the person in front of you…

While there was nothing wrong with their outfit, you did notice that they were very, very pretty. Their shirt hugged them well, and their black pants curved in the best places. Their hair curly and wavy, full of volume. Their skin smooth and seemingly soft.

You wore simple clothes. A black shirt, black tights, and your pink ballet shoes. The shirt was rather baggy, but you didn’t mind. At least, you didn’t before. Now, staring in almost at awe at your new doppelgänger, you couldn’t help but feel slightly self-conscious. 

You were confident in yourself. But now, looking at them, you suddenly felt slightly disappointed in yourself. Perhaps you should’ve put more effort into your appearance than they did..

You snapped out of your mind as you were pushed forward. You stumbled forward, catching yourself quickly and fast enough to not bump into the person ahead of you.

You shook your head, trying to clear your mind. _”Just focus on your dancing, you’ll get into the school with talent.”_ You took another breath in, and out, replaying your dance routine in your mind. You practically knew it from heart now. _“Focus.”_

As the minutes passed, the line became shorter, until you were the second person. 

Your competitor strode forward, their back arched with confidence and grace. 

You watched from the curtain, as they now stood in the middle of the stage. You could see the small smile on their face, as they opened their mouths and sung. 

They were beautiful. The music coming from their mouths leaving you breathless. Your eyes widened, and inwardly you gasped. They had a beautiful voice indeed, but it wasn’t the voice that made you gasp, it was that fact they would definitely be one of the ten entering the school.

You knew they would be entering the school. You knew they were talented enough. You knew they were pretty, and the image of your outfit compared to theirs was lack-luster.

Anxiety rose in your chest, you could feel your hands shake slightly as you made tight fists. You had no doubt they would enter the school, meaning the ten-slot had decreased to nine. The lower the acceptance rate, the lower your chance of entering. 

Doing a simple ballet routine wasn’t going to work, what were you thinking? You should have known better, to know how to stand out from the crowd. But you had been so engulfed in practicing and memorizing your dance perfectly, you forgot to add pizzazz.

They continued singing. You felt your nails digging into your palms, and as soon as the numbness faded away, and you could sense the minor pain, you opened your palm, staring down at the indents left into your skin.

You shook your hands, hoping to relieve yourself of the slight pain to help yourself focus again.

“Think! You have a minute left until it’s your turn.. do something the judges haven’t seen.. something to make you stand out..”

An image popped into your mind. You felt your cheeks burn, and stomach churn, but you were desperate. Desperate for something to make you stand out from the crowd, something to put the spotlight on you.

Quickly, you reached your shirt, grabbing the extra fabric and rolling it together, shoving it under your shirt to give the illusion of a crop-top. 

You then reached to your hair, messing up your hair just slightly in - what you hoped - a flirtatious messy style. Your heart pressed against your chest, beating rapidly as she walked off stage, and it now being your turn.

Doubting yourself, but determined to succeed, you walked towards the middle of the stage.

In front of you, sitting in the third seats to the front where three men. 

Two white, one Asian-American. On your left, was one of the white guys. He was tall, broad, and strong. His muscles poked out of his red formal casual shirt. His long beard clean-cut, and his light brown hair puffed slightly, though still slicked back; giving him a serious yet calm demeanor.

The man on the right seemed to give a whole different vibe all-together.

He was also white, slightly paler, contrasting to his black hair; which was puffy and full of volume. You had the sense that if you were to run your fingers through his hair, it would be one of the softest things you’d feel. He was thinner than the other, and probably the shortest, but that in no way made him small. Even sitting down you could tell he was tall. He had muscles too, but not as prominent as the other man.

He slumped in his seat slightly, a small playful smile on his face. As your eyes glanced over them, you could see the slight amusing in his eyes. He for the most part, seemed like a fun-lover, but also tired.

The man in the middle though. Now, he was something to look at.

He was tall, though slightly shorter than the man on the left. His black formal shirt tightened around his thick muscles. His was face handsomely symmetrical. His long black hair, ending at the name of his neck, was brushed back.

He leaned forward, his arms resting in the seat in front of him, hands laced. Your heart paused once you accidentally made eye-contact. And for a split-second, you thought he gave you a smirk. 

Sharply taking in a breath, you turned away from them. Your heart pounded against your chest, showing no signs of stopping. Your palms became moist with sweat, and they shook almost violently.

You held your breath, breaking through your nose, and exhaled.

This was your chance. Your way to star-dom. To success. If you were to win, you would go to an ivy-league school, and would live the life you had desired for so many years.

_“Don’t fuck it up.”_

You raised your arm into the air, and began.

Throughout the dance your heart pounded with every movement, your mind screamed to stay focused while giving you quick quips and improvisation of new movements that would be perceived as slightly sexual. 

By the end of the dance your chest heaved up and down. You could feel the sweat rolling down your face after three minutes of dancing and extreme nervousness.

You faced the judges, desperately searching their faces for any sign of amusement, anything.

The man on the left raised a brow, arms crossed. The man on the right seemed almost off-put by the whole ordeal. The middle man, looked you up and down. The edge of his lips tugged upwards.

“Thank you.” His voice deep with a medium bass. It matched his entire vibe. “We’ll be in touch.”

You blinked. In touch? Was that a good thing? Did that mean you made it? With another blink, confused and numb, you walked off stage, mind swirling with questions.

You exited the autotoruim quietly, entering into the semi-loud hallway with the rest of the finished performers.

You had to stay for another two hours, when auditions would be closed and another thirty when they would announce the winners.

Leaning against the wall you thought about the judges, and how rather attractive they all were. You remembered the aura they gave off, and your thoughts about how the man in the middle had smiled, more or less in a flirtatious way.

Your shook your head. No way, he was older than you and there was no away he would do that.

At least, you could hope that he only would.

———-


	2. A star

As the minutes became an hour, and a second, until you seated into an auditorium seat across the stage you had preformed, your heart, for the life of you, would not stop _pounding_.

The crowd around you was loud, but it acted as static as you gripped the arm-chair of your seat. 

You waited for hours, and while you knew the winners for your school were rather quick, you didn’t mind. So long as you were one of the few who got picked.

The bright lights in the room dimmed, and one-by-one everyone became silent, settling down as the lights on the stage brightened.

The three judges walked onto the stage, and seeing them standing next to each other showed their differences. Though they were all attractive in their own ways, you couldn’t help but feel drawn to a certain man.. A microphone was in front of them, and he started to speak.

“First of all we want to say thank you to you all for taking the time out of the day to come audition for us.” The middle man said, also the middle judge. He had a bright smile as he looked over the crowd and as his eyes glazed over your direction you couldn’t help the knot in your stomach, though your face stayed stone serious. “We are all estatic to have new students entering our school. As you all know, Academy of the Arts, is a, as we call it, ‘sleep-away school for all things considered artistic and creative.”

You knew it was a “boarding-school,” type of situation. But you didn’t mind, and apparently, neither did your guardians.

“All ten winners will receive a free-scholarship for the school.” This chance was perfect for you. Getting away from your home, and not having to worry financially.

“Seeing all your performances were amazing. By the way, I’m Mr. Fong, one of the judges. I’m also a teacher at the school for the music program.” He clapped his hands. 

“I’m also one of the teachers.” The man with the beard said. He spoke with a thick southern accent. “My name is Mr. Patterson, but y’all can call me Luke. I’m the lead dance teacher, but, believe it or not, I specialize in ballet.” 

Slightly amused, you smiled. He didn’t look like the guy to do ballet. Granted he was big and muscular, lots of men are in ballet, but you didn’t expect it from him of all people. Guess you shouldn’t judge books by their cover.

The third man spoke up. “Call me Johnathan. I’m actually the Head Director of the arts program.” He smiled bigger than Evan did. “And now that introductions are out of the way let’s get on with our winners.”

“All of your performances were fantastic, but we could only pick out a few from this school.” Johnathan walked around the stage, taking lead. “As most of you know, we have been touring schools from all around the country and this is our last school. Most of the slots have been filled from different schools, and so we could only pick out very few students. I’ll let Evan announce our winners.”

He stepped aside, and Evan took his place.

From behind his back he took out a white envelope you hadn’t realized was even there. He tore it open, and you breathed inwardly, the best you could do to compose yourself while your had your hand into a fist shaking beside you.

He leaned into the microphone on stage. “We want to apologize for anyone who wasn’t invited into the school. And for our winners…”

You almost passed out then and there once you heard the name. Alba Rivera!” And just like that, your hopes and dreams broke apart, sinking down your soul along with your heart. _“How could I be so_ stupid? _,”_ you thought. _“I must’ve made myself look like a fool..”_ you thought back to your dance. Dancing rather provocatively, especially when they were adults, must have been rather awkward.

You cringed, and dejectedly, you looked up. Just a few rows behind you was the winner. Lo-and-behold, it was the singer from before.

You gaped, though upset, you couldn’t blame the judges for picking her. Their voice alone outshines everyone in the contest. Their looks, as much as you despised admitting it..

They grinned wide, standing tall; waving. They gobbled up the praise and you could see them _beam_ with pride with each compliment passed their way. You bit back your jealousy, but you glared at them, before turning back around and staring at your lap with disappointment and shame.

“Congratulations Val Rivera! We are excited to have you in our school. Now..” everyone settled down, turning their attention back to the man.

You continued to stare at your lap, too lost in your own mind to hear what the man was saying. Damn, you had practiced so _hard_ for this. Why couldn’t you get what you _deserved?_

The claps of others brought you out of your mind. Evan stood at the microphone, waiting expectantly. Everyone clapped, but one-by-one they faded out and then, Evan repeated himself. 

He said your name. 

You gasped, quickly reaching to pinch yourself. You hoped you weren’t dreaming. 

They couldn’t be talking about _you_. Hadn’t the other person won?

The man’s words from before came into your mind. “A few,” he had said. More than one. Suddenly feeling like you couldn’t breathe, you gripped your seat for dear life. Had you.. passed the audition?

Hesitantly, you stood from your seat shakily. Your heart battered against your chest, threatening to break your rib cage . Anxiety rose in your chest, but you pushed it down. 

His eyes darted towards you, a wide grin popping into his face. You blushed slightly, and even more so as everyone began clapping again. You smiled shakily, but quickly covered up your nervousness with an equal bright smile as the man on stage. 

In awe, you looked around the autotroum, and for a moment, you could imagine yourself on the stage, dancing with skills they hadn’t yet seen, having the crowd admire you with every movement you made. Their praise deafening.

Quickly snapping yourself out of your own mind, you sat down before it got too awkward; cheeks burning. The claps died down, and so did your daydream, slightly disappointed to be back in reality. But you reminded yourself that _you_ had done.

He continued talking, apologizing to the students who hadn’t made the cut.

_You had._

You smiled to yourself. 

Suddenly, for the first time in a while, you felt a warm feeling in your chest. It started in your chest, and quickly rose to different parts of you. You were surprised, but _proud_ of yourself, you almost felt complete.

You grinned to no one in particular. You could hear the words of the man, you could hear the blood in your ears as you became excited and nervous for your new school.

You looked back up, and now the man, Luke, began to talk. 

“Our school is _very_ competitive, and you have to _fight_ to stay. To those who’ve won, you’re going against _eight_ _other students_. The _ten_ of you are going to compete to stay, and only _one_ will succeed.” He hummed, the low and deep hum made your stomach flip. “Good luck..”

You gasped. The school was an elite, and only took the best of the best. That you knew, but you didn't realize you would have to compete with others to even _stay_ there after acceptance.

Your reaction of surprise became replaced by ambition. You had spent your entire life in your small town, with your pockets practically empty. You always watched from a distance at celebrities, from a screen where you could only wish to be like them. Be as rich and famous as them.

You wanted nothing more than the life you thought you deserved. The one you spent day and night practicing for.

You held your breath, then let it go. If you were to go to this school, you had to be calm, collected. Put a facade in front of yourself and _make_ yourself the famous person you imagined yourself in your mind.

You wanted your dreams to become a reality desperately. And this school was your first-class ticket to making that happen.

You were going to become a star.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to give criticism.
> 
> Just to clarify, the reader has fake confidence so they talk about their “talent,” but is insecure about their appearance and wonders if they’re even talented.


End file.
